The Inferior Soldier
by M10m gas mask soldier
Summary: Who is the man behind the cracked white ceramic mask? What secrets does his past hold? What connection does he have to the events of F.E.A.R. 2? As his commander, Sgt. Becket, is about to discover, there is more to this unique Replica Heavy Trooper than he could have ever imagined. Even forgotten bonds cannot be broken. Side/Prequel story for The Broken Soldier.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Inferior Soldier

Origin: F.E.A.R. 2: Project Origin

POV: Alpha 1

Type: Friendship/ hurt/ comfort

A.N.: Because I get too attached to characters that I create, I am writing this side story that will detail Alpha 1's past from the moment that he awakened to the moment that Becket encounters him at the end of Chapter 3 in the main story.

I wrote this to be a prequel for The Broken Soldier. This story will cover what was happening in the background during F.E.A.R. 2 Project Origin. It will also elaborate on certain loose ends that I do not cover in the main story. So, if you like my main story, it might be worth your time to read this one too.

At the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next one, when Alpha 1 talks about killing Becket, he does not realize that Michael and Sgt. Becket are the same person because he only knew Becket by his first name and there was no way that he could have recognized him.

Since the only insight into the Replicas (their personalities, how their programming affects them, their command structure, and even simple things like how they view the world) in the games is extremely limited and really only seen at the beginning of the DLC Reborn, I had to make my best guess on how to write from the point of view of one.

Read and review if you want.

Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. 2 Project Origin and all related characters and elements are trademarks of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. I claim no ownership of anything, except for my OCs, nor do I plan to profit from posting this. I hope this is enough to avoid legal action against me.

"Is something troubling you my friend?" My brother, Commander Becket, asked with concern in his voice. I grimaced beneath my cracked face. My commander had an annoying habit of being able to tell when something was bothering me even when I tried to hide it. It had been hours since we had returned from my brother's childhood home and we were currently in his office.

I shifted uncomfortably as I leaned against one of the walls with my arms folded against my chest. I looked at him through my damaged eyes that saw the world in a warm orange color as I contemplated whether or not to answer his inquiry honestly. I had been viewed as being inferior all my life and I did not desire to have finally found someone that I could think of as being family, only to lose their respect by making them think that I was inferior.

However, he seemed to sense the conflict in my mind because he smiled slightly before he assured me, "After everything that we have been through, it is impossible for me to think of you as being inferior." Hoping that his words were sincere, I sighed before I started, "Sir, when people ask me what my name is…" I paused as hesitation momentarily robbed me of my courage.

My friend closed the manila folder that contained the file that he had been looking through and placed it off to the left side of his desk. He then leaned back in his leather chair as he focused his attention completely on me. The cold, emotionless soldier side of him left his personality as he said encouragingly, "It's okay…go on."

My nerve returned and I continued, "The reason that I cannot answer them is not because of my programming. It is because I am not certain who I am." He nodded before he asked, "Well, who do you think you are?" I mulled over the question for a moment while my brother patiently waited. Finally, I replied, "I am not sure, sir." He shook his head before he instructed me, "Knock off that sir and yes sir crap. This is just a chat between two friends."

I smiled beneath my face in response. I continued, "Thank you, brother. I have been called so many things that I do not know who I am. Inferior, freak, killer, A0001, Alpha 1…truth is that I just don't know which one is my name." My friend nodded slowly as he processed what I had said. After a moment, he said, "It occurs to me that I know very little about your past. Perhaps the answer that you seek is there."

His answer stunned me. As a Replica, I was programmed to not dwell on past events unless they were relevant to the current situation and even then, such thoughts were akin to being taboo. A knock on the door drew my friend's attention. His soldier side returned, indicated by his overall demeanor sharpening, and the dead look returning to his glowing orange eyes. He called out, "Enter."

Foxtrot 813 entered the room and swiftly walked to stand before our commander. He went to attention and saluted. Becket saluted back and Foxtrot 813 dropped his right hand before he reported, "Sir, Bravo 2 has been released from the infirmary and has reported to Lieutenant Stokes." Becket replied, "Understood. Inform Stokes that I will submit the transfer request by 1200 hours. Dismissed."

Foxtrot 813 saluted one more time before exiting the room. As soon as the sentient Replica soldier, I myself being the only other one, walked out of the room, the soldier side left my commander. He returned to looking at me with brotherly concern. I started, "I was born, like all the other Replicas, in the Perseus Compound." I let myself get lost in my memories as I recounted my life to my commander.

I opened my eyes to find that I was floating in some kind of container. Needles attached to narrow fluid-filled tubes were stuck into my nude body at various spots. Transparent, ice-cold fluid surrounded me but a respirator was attached to my face so I could breathe. Panic filled my mind and I thrashed against my restraints as I freaked out. Somehow, my violent jerks succeeded in breaking my right arm free from the restraining strap.

I began ripping the needles out of my body despite the sharp pain that it caused me. The fluid surrounding me began to turn red as the needle holes began to bleed. Eventually, all my limbs were free and I started beating against the clear concavo-complex barrier that stood between my freedom and me. At first, my efforts seemed fruitless and my strikes became increasingly feral in response. Just when all hope seemed lost, a crack appeared.

Seeing at there was a chance for my escape, I pushed my beaten limbs harder in one last push at freedom. Finally, the barrier submitted to my assaults and I fell forward as it gave way. Some of the broken shards cut into my bare skin and I moaned in agony. Before I could rest, I heard something drop to the ground a few feet to my left. I looked up to see a lab coat clad Hispanic man staring wide-eyed at me.

After shaking for a moment, he suddenly yelled, "Security! One of them is awake!" He turned and started running in the opposite direction as he continued to yell the same two statements repeatedly. After removing the respirator from my face, I removed the waste removal tubes from my genitals and anus. Finally free from the strange device, I pushed myself to my feet.

As I did so, I saw my reflection in the most intact piece of the shards of the barrier. A pale, young, Caucasian boy with short brown hair and blue eyes looked back at me from the surface of the shard. I was just a child that appeared to be no older than ten years old. In the brief glance that I got, I also saw what appeared to be a barcode on the side of my head.

Confused, I looked down at my pale white hands and quietly asked aloud with a strangely deep but still desperate and scared voice, "What am I? Who am I?" The sound of approaching footsteps caused me to turn to look to my right. I saw a young Caucasian boy about my age with brown hair and wearing a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans. His face was bruised and his expression was one of deep sorrow, but his grey eyes held a charismatic sharpness to them.

I saw a quick look of curiosity before he asked, "Who are you?" I replied, "I was hoping that you knew." Before we could continue conversing, a pale, strange looking raven-haired girl wearing a long sleeve red dress suddenly materialized between us. I was startled by her sudden appearance and I backed away from the pair a few steps. However, the boy seemed unaffected by her otherworldly physical appearance and I even saw a brief look of joy as he gazed at her as if she was some kind of goddess.

She smiled back at him before she scolded him with a motherly tone, "Michael no. You should not be here. Let me take you home. Quickly, before they find you." In my fear, I failed to pay enough attention to my surroundings and I stepped on one of the shards. It must have been pointed up because I yelped as it dug into my left foot.

The noise drew the attention of the girl. She turned away from Michael and looked at me. Immediately, I was drawn to her eyes. She had glowing orange eyes with dark rings around them. I wanted to retreat away from her frightening gaze but I suddenly heard her voice inside my mind. She asked with a gentle tone, "You see?" Frightened beyond rational thought, it took everything I had in me to manage to nod once in response.

Her pale lips formed a nearly imperceptible smile as she once again spoke into my mind. With the same gentle tone, she said, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you unless you give me a reason to. Come with us." She extended her right hand towards me and waited to see if I would accept her offer. Unsure about how to handle the situation, I took another step back.

I saw her eyes sadden in response. It was the most heartbreaking sight I had ever witnessed, but, in all fairness, I had just woken up. Beside her, Michael looked at me with an encouraging smile as he motioned towards her. Giving in, I walked forward and approached the young girl. When I was close enough, I extended my left hand and placed it in her hand.

A severe headache erupted inside my mind as I was assaulted by different images of the same two men fighting alongside each other. One wore brown Special Forces attire, was armed with an assault rifle, and disguised his face with a black ski mask that had a skull painted on it. The other wore white and green heavy armor that had racks of red shotgun shells in various spots along its surface, was armed with an automatic shotgun, and disguised his face with an intimidating cracked, white ceramic mask. Their uniforms may have claimed that the men swore different allegiances, but they might as well have been brothers as they fought together.

Before I could act upon the pain, it vanished along with the images. Clothing similar to Michael's had encased my frame while I had been overwhelmed by the images. Shaking, I asked, "Wh-what wa-was that?" The girl giggled before she replied, "Someday, you will know." Michael remarked with an amused voice, "Yeah, she does stuff like that. You get used to it after a while. Don't worry, that means that she likes you." Before I could respond, approaching voices and footsteps ended our short-lived moment. Michael said, "This way, I know a secret way out." I ran beside my new ally as he led the way to our escape route.

As we ran down the corridors, I glanced around and was horrified to see hundreds of children, most with deformed faces, in devices that were identical to the one in which I had been held prisoner. I asked aloud, "What the Hell is this place? What the fuck is going on here?" As he paused to get his bearings, Michael explained, "This is a hidden facility that is owned by a corporation called Armacham Technology Corporation. You are one of hundreds of cloned soldiers that are called Replicas." He started running again and I followed beside him.

He continued, "Replica soldiers are part of a project called Perseus, which is funded by the Department of Defense. Something about genetically engineered puppet soldiers that respond to telepathic orders from psychic commanders." Confused, I asked, "Puppet…soldiers? Psychic…commanders?" He laughed as we rounded a corner before he said, "Fucked up shit isn't it? Trust me, this is nothing compared to what they are doing in Project Paragon." I replied, "Depends on the perspective that you are looking at it. I am a…cloned puppet…"

Realization hit me and I asked, "Wait, then why am I awake and making decisions?" He replied with a humble, honest tone, "I don't know. Maybe you are special." We approached a series of large air vents that must have pulled fresh air down into the facility. If that were true, then we must have been underground. Michael pointed towards one and we ran to it.

He pulled it off its mount and motioned for me to follow him as he crawled into the vent. I bent down to follow but at that instant, an alarm sounded. Seconds later, the sound of closing metal security gates echoed throughout the facility. Before I could join my friend, a metal gate sealed off my escape route, as well as every other vent mounted nearby.

Michael crawled back and said, "Hold on, I will find a way to open it." I heard the sound of approaching booted footsteps. Realizing that it was too late for me, I grabbed the vent cover and put it back into place so that they would not suspect that anyone else other than me had tried to escape. That would buy my friend enough time to reach freedom.

With a hurt voice, Michael stated, "What are you doing? I won't leave you behind!" I smiled slightly in gratitude for his concern before I replied, "No, it is too late for me. Please, run. Save yourself…my friend." I saw him hesitate but the sound of approaching footsteps and the young girl telling him to follow her finally caused him to give into my request. However, just before he crawled away, he told me, "I will be back. I will set you all free. I promise." Then, he disappeared from view as he crawled away.

"You! Hold it right there!" I turned to see around a dozen men wearing dark sunglasses and dressed in matching short-sleeve blue uniforms with black lightweight Kevlar armor. Upon seeing the devices in their hands, a forced thought went through my mind. 'Dart Gun. Fires nonlethal projectiles designed to incapacitate targets by injecting narcotics via hypodermic needle. Effective range: five meters with optimal conditions. Situation assessment: successful escape highly unlikely; chances of survival are minimal.' The thought left my mind and I quietly asked myself, "What the fuck was that?"

A female voice mocked me, "Ah, you seem to have absorbed your programming despite your premature self-removal from your gestation pod. Pity that you have to be destroyed." A female scientist stepped forward between the guards as they aimed their dart guns at me. With a cold voice, she ordered, "He is an inferior specimen…sentient. We have no use for him. Kill him. Cremate the body when you are done." I stepped back in fright but I had no sooner moved back a step before I felt a sharp prick in my chest.

I looked down to see a dart imbedded into my upper chest. As it hit home that I was about to die, a forced thought went through my mind once more. 'Analysis: damage minimal; dart point imbedded into sternum; likelihood of effective drug injection is unlikely.' Rage filled me as I decided that I was not going to die without making my killers earn it. I was going to be defiant until the end.

Running towards the men, I ripped the dart out of my chest and held it tightly in my right hand. The female scientist fled the area as I neared the line of men. Darts continued to imbed themselves into my tiny body. However, I was an engineered super weapon so I fought through the fog and numbness that was being to overwhelm my senses. I lunged and tackled one of the guards. My momentum was enough to knock the man off his feet and I landed knees first on top of his chest.

By that time, my sense of hearing had degraded to the extent that every noise was distorted and muffled. While the man thrashed about beneath me, I thrust the dart into the man's right eye through the lens of his sunglasses. His screams were lost to me as I stood and prepared to stomp the dart in further. As my foot descended, I screamed, "Die motherfucker!" The man finally stopped moving except for the sporadic twitches caused by his body's nerve endings that had not gotten the memo that it was time to die.

With one down, I reached for the combat knife strapped to the corpse's right leg but before I could unsheathe it, one final dart struck into the side of my neck. My body finally could not hold back the tide of the narcotics flowing through my bloodstream. I collapsed onto my back. As I lay there, my arms and legs jerked as I attempted to continue the fight. Eventually, as the ATC security guards surrounded me and with my body ceasing all movement, I realized that my fate was inevitable and that I was never going to see the outside world.

Just before the fatal blow could be stuck, a man's voice said, "Wait." A man with brown hair, a moustache, black rimmed prescription glasses, and wearing a brown coat stood over me as my vision started to blacken. I could still make out the fear in the guards' faces from being in close proximity to this man. He studied me for a moment before he asked, "What is this one's identification?" The Hispanic scientist that had gone for security earlier appeared beside the man. Looking down at a clipboard, he replied, "Variant VII. Classification: Heavy Trooper. Serial number: A0001."

A0001? That was my name? In addition, I was a Replica Heavy Trooper, whatever that meant. I managed to smile despite the tranquilizer drugs. At least, I would die knowing who and what I was. As my vision became a long narrow tube, I heard the brown-coated man say, "Take him to the Harbinger Facility's Outer Ring storage area. Label him as an experiment that is under my _personal_ supervision." As I submitted to the narcotics, I heard someone say, "Yes sir, Mr. Wade." Seconds later, I lost consciousness.

For the next twenty years or so, I was trapped in an endless cycle of being confined to that claustrophobic prison that they called a stasis pod and engaging in agonizingly repetitive live fire exercises in The Arena. The pathetic shells of human beings that ATC would strap into the chair in the booth were always the same: paranoid, feral, and could not give a coherent command if they wanted to. My curse of having a sentient mind proved useful in The Arena because I was able to quickly dispatch the enemy team while its members struggled to try to make sense of the incoherent orders given to them by the abominations. However, being human nearly drove me insane while I was in my stasis pod.

While my Replica brethren had the luxury of going dormant during the time in their stasis pods, I was awake. It would not have been so bad if the other Replicas had accepted me. However, except for the other Heavy Troopers, I was a freak of nature to them. The Heavy Troopers treated me with respect, but unfortunately, we Heavy Troopers are not social creatures so I spent months at a time in complete isolation with only my thoughts and memories to keep me company.

I constantly thought of Michael and the strange little girl. They were the only ones that had shown me kindness. Though I knew that it was pointless, I begged and prayed that some miracle would bring us back together. Then, one day, as I was deep in thought, my com link activated as the image of a Heavy Trooper appeared in my HUD. After a moment of pulling my mind out of its slumber, I realized that it was a unit of the Replica Command.

The Trooper said, "Heavy Trooper A0001, respond." Stunned, because I had never heard Replica Command contact me, I replied, "A0001 reporting for duty." He ordered me, "A0001, you have been assigned as the squad leader for Alpha team. Your call sign is now Alpha 1. Orders are as follows: Proceed to Command Post Charlie and rendezvous with your new team. Terminate the Armacham Technology Corporation Blackops that have infiltrated the facility with extreme prejudice. Primary mission objective is to track down and terminate Delta Force Operative Sergeant Becket."

My pod opened and I exited it as I replied, "Roger that command." I retrieved my automatic shotgun and took in my surroundings. I was alone in a side storage area. I noticed a puddle of water on the concrete floor and looked down into it. An intimidating white ceramic mask with two glowing rectangular slits for eyes returned my glance. I was definitely no longer a child.

In the distance, I heard the sound of gunfire. Proceeding with caution, I entered the main corridor. I realized that the gunshots were headed my way. My com link activated and a Replica soldier informed me, "Alpha 1, Target Sergeant Becket is nearing your location." I replied, "Copy that. He won't get past me." Moments later, I heard the sound of booted footsteps approaching my location. With my shotgun at the ready, I said quietly, "Nothing personal Becket, but it is either you or me."


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

A.N.: Hello to anyone who takes the time to read this. I know that it is not as good as my main story but I want to tell Alpha 1's story to give him some justice as well as to give some insight into Becket and Alma's story as well.

Review if you want. I will try to answer any questions as best I can. After I post a chapter, I always go through and correct any grammatical or game canon errors. Please keep that in mind the first day or two after I post something. After that, if there is still an error that bugs you, feel free to tell me.

Oh, the way Alma speaks at the beginning is me trying to imitate the weird way that she speaks in the game. So…it is not grammatical mistakes. I did the same thing in the early chapters and flashbacks in my main story too.

To my fellow Southern readers, I hope you were all fortunate during this horrible winter storm.

Over the rhythmic sound of machinery, I heard the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer until they were about to pass me. I could hear more gunshots and the sound of my fellow Replicas calling out to each other as they engaged the Delta Force Operative.

I shook my head in disgust as I muttered, "Damn fools. They are throwing themselves at him. You don't win like that." I contacted them, "Attention all nearby units, this is Alpha 1. Target is to be encircled. Do you copy?"

The response that I received was, "Piss off you freak." My real eyes narrowed behind my armored face as I contacted Replica Command, "Command, requesting permission to terminate this soldier for insubordination." Command replied, "Granted."

That got through to the Replica Trooper and he fell back in line. He asked, "What are your orders, Alpha 1?" I replied, "Fall back and make sure that he follows you. I will flank him." He said, "Roger that, Alpha 1."

I crept forward through the main storage area beneath The Arena. Overhead, machinery transported stasis pods to an unknown location. Moving down the concrete path that was illuminated by the orange glow of the overhead lights, I located a crevice to slip into. After a moment of waiting, a man dressed in brown Special Forces attire passed me and from my hidden position, I was able to study him. Once again, I noted the strange ability to know differences in color even though my armored eyes saw the world with an orange hue.

He was Caucasian, had brown hair that was cut short but was styled with a civilian haircut instead of a military haircut, was clean-shaven, was around thirty years old, and appeared to be in admittedly outstanding physical fitness. I noted the recent injuries to his face that would likely become scars once they healed. Despite the green tinted HUD glasses that he wore, I saw that his eyes were grey.

His demeanor was one of intense focus. The way that he handled the Patten PK470 7.8mm Assault Rifle in his grasp was as if it were an extension of himself instead of a weapon. I realized that he would be a dangerous adversary. He was all-military. I would not have been surprised if he had very few friends outside the service, let alone any close personal relationships with anyone. Just as I was about to creep up behind him, I noticed three pods open in front of him.

Wanting to see how skilled the man was, I decided to observe how effectively he handled the three standard Replica grunts. As I watched him, he suddenly started moving as a blur. Before my eyes, he rapidly cut down the three Replica grunts with pinpoint accuracy before they could even raise their assault rifles. Immediately following his victory, as if he had thrown a switch, the man's movements slowed back down to normal human levels.

I had to admit that he was extremely fast and accurate for a non-Replica. That must have been the "slow-mo" ability that I had been hearing about. The older variant that Commander Fettel had taken with him when he went rogue had whispered to the rest of us about someone called "him". The way they talked about that individual, you would think that he was some kind of demon or monster rather than a man.

It did not make sense that this soldier had the "slow-mo" ability too though. He could not be the same individual that the older variant had encountered. That would be impossible. The last report was that the individual had been sighted near The Vault, which was clear on the other side of the city, less than half an hour before the explosion. The Vault was Ground Zero. Even if the individual had, by some miracle, survived the blast, it was unfeasible that he had transverse the damaged city to infiltrate this facility.

There was no way that this soldier and that soldier were the same person. Why did this Delta Force Operative have the same ability then? Only Armacham had the necessary technology and knowledge to give it to an individual. That meant another possibility.

I sensed the massive telesthetic signature that he gave off. Perhaps he was one of their experiments. I doubted that he was aware of what they had done to him. If he had been, he would have realized that he could have taken control of us easily. His signature felt familiar but I could not place it. The more I focused on his signature, the more the feeling of nostalgia increased.

I shook my head to clear the unnecessary thoughts. I just wanted to get the business over with so I could begin my search for Michael and the girl. I may have been turned into a monster, but surely, they would still accept me. They just had to. That is what friends were supposed to do, right? I had been alone for so long. Surely, they would understand that and still accept me despite the fact that I had been turned into an armored killer. This soldier was in the way of me being reunited with them.

He had taken cover behind a metal box to avoid the incoming fire of the squad of Replicas that had fallen back at my direction. He was concentrating on them and had his back to me. His reflexes may give him an advantage, but he had to activate them before he could use them. That would not do him much good if I got behind him and killed him before he could activate them.

Crouching down, I advanced towards him. He was aiming down his rifle's scope, completely oblivious to his surroundings. With my footsteps disguised by the machinery and the firefight inches away from me, he was completely ignorant of my presence. He crouched down behind the box once more as he began to reload his rifle. By that time, I had snuck up behind him within an arm's length. I aimed my shotgun pointblank at his head.

His fate was sealed; there was no way that he would survive my shot. My right finger began to pull my shotgun's trigger. Just before I could terminate him, an unseen force possessed my body. I was lifted off my feet and onto my back. Strangely oblivious to what was happening inches behind him, the soldier began to advance on the other Replicas with his reflexes activated.

Unable to get to my feet or free myself from the force that had seized me, I began to slide across the floor as if I was being dragged by something. Desperately, I reached out with my left hand to try to grab something that would give me enough leverage to halt my involuntary slide. I cried out in pain as I collided with various obstacles.

Within seconds, I was well away from the area were Becket was located. As I turned a corner, a severe headache erupted inside my head and I started to hear what sounded like a woman mumbling incoherent statements. At the end of the hallway that I being dragged towards, I saw a pale, nude, emaciated young woman with tangled black hair.

Her demeanor was one of pure menace and rage. The rage disturbed me the most. It was so thick in the air that it was suffocating. Changing my posture so I sliding along on my ass, I raised my left hand up to the pump of my automatic shotgun. I began to hip fire my scattergun at the demonic being.

Despite emptying my shotgun's magazine into the woman, I continued to be dragged towards her. Moreover, my 12 gauge rounds seemed to have little to no effect on the being despite the fact that they were double-aught buckshot. At that range, nothing mortal could have survived that amount of buckshot. Realizing the extent of the extreme danger that I was in, I dropped my weapon as I rolled over and started clawing at the floor while I simultaneously started kicking to try to get back on my feet.

The closer I got to the demon, the more my headache throbbed in my head. When it finally reached the intensity that I became nauseated, I was picked up by my neck from behind and thrown into the wall. As my back collided with the hard surface, I had to force the groan to not to escape my lips while several of my ribs popped and cracked. My armor had been the only thing that prevented my spine from outright snapping.

The demon's pale skinny right hand held me around my neck with a bone-crushing grip that I knew would be impossible to escape. She held me against the wall with her face only inches from the ceramic surface of my face. This close, it felt like every single molecule inside my body was on fire.

The bottomless black pits that were her eyes bore into me as I involuntarily twitched from the unbearable agony throbbing inside me as if my body had suddenly become one single nerve ending. Any normal human being would have already blacked out.

She whispered with a dead, emotionless voice, "Hurt. You try hurt. Will not let you." Her grip around my neck started to tighten. She was going to snap my neck! No, I was not going to die before I got to see my friends just one more time. Forcing my body to rally despite the maddening pain it was in, I sent a right punch into the left side of her skull.

I was unable to stop the grunt from escaping my lips as I felt and heard the bones in my hand shatter like a cold piece of steel hit with a sledgehammer. A forced thought when through my mind. 'Analysis: Comminuted fractures to the metacarpals and carpus. Right hand functionality is down to one percent.' It felt like I had punched a reinforced steel wall that was several feet thick. My engineered, inhuman strength and increased bone density literally allowed me to punch through brick walls. What was she?

She seemed to be enjoying my torment and she even gave off a dry cackle. As darkness started to overtake my vision, I gasped out, "If…you…expect…me…to…beg…I…will…not." She whispered, "You different Replica. Die anyway." My left hand instinctually tried to remove her hand by squeezing down on her wrist. My strength should have been able to crush her bones easily but even at full pressure, I was unable to.

As my mind began to slip into unconsciousness, the image of Michael and the girl flashed through my mind. Instantly, her grip around my neck slackened enough to let me breathe and the agonizingly throbbing sensation inside my body and mind ceased. She whispered, "What that?" She continued to hold me but now it was merely to keep me from moving as she seemed to study me. She whispered with an obsessive tone, "Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?"

I felt a strange sensation inside my head. It did not hurt but it did feel unnatural. After a moment, I noticed her demeanor shift to one that vaguely resembled remorse. Before I realized what was happening, I had been released and was on my knees with my torso and head resting against something small and soft.

I felt a pair of arms wrap around my neck, but this time, it was so gentle that it felt angelic compared to the murderous grip seconds earlier. Though not entirely sure why, I wrapped my arms around the small form as I enjoyed the feeling of relief that was being emitted from her. As she continued to hold me, she whispered soothing statements like a mother consoling her frightened child.

As she held me, I felt my body mend itself by her command and aid. After what seemed like an eternity, she pushed me away slightly. She placed her right hand beneath my armored chin and gently lifted my head up to look at her. It was her! The same girl that I had met twenty years prior was the same entity that had been trying to kill me moments ago. Unsure if I should be resentful, happy, or frightened, I simply continued to look into her agonized eyes.

As if she sensed my inner conflict, she spoke into my mind, "Sorry. I not know you with armor. Forgive?" I nodded slowly in response. She smiled slightly as she guided me to my feet. As I towered over her, she briefly studied my changed appearance.

She remarked, "You big, strong now. Like Michael." Excited, I asked, "You know where he is?" Her expression saddened and I felt my stomach drop as I feared what she was about to reveal. She said nothing. Instead, she glanced in the direction that I had been dragged.

She could not have been clearer if she had tried. Shocked, I exclaimed, "No way! Sergeant Becket?!" She nodded sadly. Confused, I asked, "Why is he…?" She interrupted me as she explained, "Don't have memories. Armacham." In an instant, nearly all of my willingness to fight left me. My prayers had been answered: we had all been reunited. However, none of us were the same person that we had once been.

Broken, I asked, "And you?" I felt a surge of fury emanate from her that was so chilling that I wanted to recoil away from her touch no matter how motherly it might seem. The rage I felt inside of her was indescribably negative. For whoever had been foolish enough to instill her with that boiling cauldron of raw anger, I prayed that, if there was indeed a higher deity or deities that judged us upon death, that said being or beings would have mercy on them because she would not.

She must have sensed the distress that she was causing me because the anger vanished as a look of sorrow formed on her pale heart shaped face. She shook her head as she stated with a desperate tone, "No. No. No. Don't be afraid. Don't go. Stay with me. Please!" The fragile, desperate tone in her voice relit the fire inside of me. My willingness to kill and fight returned. I laughed with repeated grunts before I said, "I don't have anywhere to go. I'm all your's."

Her sorrow left and she even smiled briefly before she said, "I need your help." Without hesitation, I asked, "What needs to be done…boss?" She giggled at the pet name before she replied, "Leave Becket to me. I need you to find someone for me while I concentrate on reawakening Michael's personality." I nodded before I asked, "Who?" She replied, "A Replica Trooper codenamed Foxtrot 813."

I thought for a minute before I informed her, "Command Post Sigma. The Foxtrots were sent there to secure the site from Armacham. If he is still alive, that is where I will find him." She stated simply, "Kill him." Stunned, I asked, "Why?" She explained, "He is a clone of Fettel." I asked, "As in Paxton Fettel?" She nodded.

I saw it in her eyes. I said, "I see…so the two Origin Prototypes…" She interrupted me with a sad tone, "Mine." Flashes of memories overtook my vision temporarily. I saw everything: Project Origin, The Synchronicity Events, Alma's (I finally learned her name) death and release from The Vault, Paxton Fettel, Point Man, and the death of the rogue commander by his own brother's hands. My vision returned to normal and I said softly, "I'm sorry."

She smiled in gratitude before she said, "Fettel…I told him not to revive himself. He is corrupt and power hungry now…he is no longer my son. He plans to use Foxtrot 813 to bring himself back into the physical realm. We must move quickly to prevent that from happening." Curious, I asked, "How do you know that he is planning to use Foxtrot 813?" Her eyes narrowed as she replied, "He told me." Feeling stupid, I said, "Right…" I then asked, "Is there some way that Foxtrot 813 does not have to die?" She shook her head before she said with an apologetic voice, "No, I'm sorry. It has to be done."

I nodded before I said with a plain voice, "Alright, Foxtrot 813 is as good as dead." She smiled as she dissolved into a cloud of ash. In my mind, I heard her say, "I will be in touch. If you need help, just let me know. By the way, I am in control of your Replica Variant so my orders out rank any that your Replica Command gives you."

I nodded as I replied with my mind, "Copy that, ma'am." I retrieved my shotgun and reloaded it. As I mentally calculated the fastest way to get to Command Post Sigma, I spoke into my com link, "Alpha Team, this is your Heavy Trooper. Sound off." They replied, "Alpha 2 here, sir. Alpha 3 here, sir. Alpha 4 here, sir. Alpha 5 here, sir." Alpha 2, the team's second-in-command, asked, "What are your orders, sir?"

I replied, "Disregard primary orders. New orders are to track down and eliminate Replica Trooper Foxtrot 813. This comes directly from the top so disregard anything at command tells you. For now, rendezvous at the underground cargo train. Once we are aboveground, we will proceed to Command Post Sigma to intercept Foxtrot 813." Simultaneously, my men replied, "Roger that, sir. Proceeding to the cargo train."

Gripping my shotgun, I started running towards the hidden train that connected this facility with the facility at Still Island. As the facility started to shake from the demolition charges that the ATC Blackops had deployed, I hoped that Michael and Alma were able to find the way out in time. The only other way out other than the train was the hydraulic cargo lift but it was habitually unreliable, as the valves had to be manually reclosed nearly every time someone tried to use it.

Foxtrot 813 had to die. I hated the thought of killing one of my own kind when he had not personally done any harm to me, but it had to be done for the greater good. For my friends, I would do it.

As I ran, I reflected on the change in Alma's personality. She seemed darker and more twisted than I remembered. Perhaps she and I were not so different. Isolation does horrible things to people's minds. I just hoped that, despite what ATC had done to her, she had retained enough of who she was to not accidently or absentmindedly hurt Michael. Because I would not personally be able to be there to protect him, I would have to trust her.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

A.N.: Hello, everyone reading this story. I know that it is not the same as my main story but I feel that it explains certain things in the main story. Oh, and yes, the airplane seen at the beginning of the level Ruin is the one described here.

Due to the massive amount of college work that I have to do over the weekend, it is unlikely that I will have a new chapter for the main story posted by Monday. I will have it posted by next Friday…probably. Have faith ;)

Read and review if you want.

The clashing between ATC's Private Army and my fellow Replicas had heavily damaged the areas that I passed through as I made my way to the cargo train. I began to worry as I received more information and updates from Replica Command. Based on the reports, Michael was traveling through areas of heavy fighting. While he was a Delta Force Operator and an unnaturally gifted soldier that had the slow-mo ability on top of that, I still worried that he might underestimate the dire situation that Armacham had forced upon him.

Alma seemed to be protecting him but she had to let him fend for himself as part of her process to reawaken his true personality. I did not worry about his ability to fight through the ATC Forces, which aside from Col. Vanek and his Black Ops were mediocre fighters at best, but I did worry about his ability to fight through my fellow Replicas.

Even Alma worried me. Project Origin had all but destroyed her. While I had no doubt that she loved Michael, I worried that she was so broken that she would inadvertently put his life in danger by being too compulsive with her actions. If he had teammates, I knew that she would systematically eliminate them one by one in order to isolate him and break him. She would have to break him; turn him into a broken soldier in order to awaken his true personality. I just hoped that when she did, she knew how to put him back together.

As I approached a corner, I heard a man say, "Samuels, this is Mendez. Inform Coronel Vanek that the demolition charges are set and armed in Sector twenty." I heard another man reply, "Copy that Mendez. What is the status of Sergeant Becket?" Mendez said, "The Bitch showed up and killed the abomination that Vanek had strapped into the chair. I fell back and connected with the Demolition Team to ensure that the demolition was on schedule."

Samuels replied, "More like you shit and pissed yourself as you ran like Hell, right?" Mendez said defensively, "My official story is that I fell back." Samuels said, "Whatever you say. Get your ass and the Demolition Team topside. This shithole is coming down. We will let the demolition charges finish Becket off." Mendez said, "Roger that." He then spoke to what I presumed to be the Demolition Team that he had connected with, "You heard the man. Let's the fuck out of here."

I eased to the edge of the corner and cautiously peered around it. I saw four men dressed in typical ATC Mercenary attire and armed with Andra FD-99 Submachine Guns. There was a fifth man amongst them dressed in ATC Black Ops Heavy Soldier attire and he was armed with a pump action SHO Series-3 Combat Shotgun.

His blue, silver, and grey armor looked similar to the armor that the regular grunts wore except that it was noticeably bulkier and modified to absorb significantly more damage. A silver helmet, with a large blue visor that allowed him to see, protected his head. This was the first time that I had encountered this kind of unit. When I noticed the rows of shotgun shells at various points along the armor's surface, I had to wonder if this unit was Armacham's answer for Replica Heavy Armors like me.

If it was, they were in for a rude awakening. Our armor may be bulky but beneath it, we were genetically engineered to be physically unhindered by the added weight. To me, I might as well have been wearing a lightweight t-shirt and running shorts.

This pathetic attempt of theirs to match us only confirmed, to me, that they were afraid of us. They feared us, and rightly so considering what they had done to us. We were property to them; inventory to be stored in some warehouse. They failed to realize that despite our clone origins, we are not robots without any sense of the self. We bleed, sweat, have rational thoughts, and feel pain just like any other human being. The only difference between "real" human beings and us is that we have no fear of death. We would have our revenge.

They had their backs to me and against the wall next to them, I saw the two yellow barrels rigged with C4 plastic explosives that must have been the demolition charges that Mendez had mentioned. The barrels had the statement of "FLAMMABLE" written in large red letters in the middle section. Along the top, the warning, "DANGER" and below it, the warning, "HIGHLY VOLATLE" were both written in black lettering, though in smaller print than the red message below them.

I smirked at the sight. They made killing them almost too easy. Twisting around the corner with my shotgun raised, I aimed my shotgun at the yellow barrels. Mendez must have heard me because he started to turn as he said aloud, "Huh…?" I fired my shotgun. The tight spread of my shotgun's buckshot gave it almost rifle like accuracy, even at medium range. The barrels exploded, though it provided much less entertainment than I had expected.

Never the less, the explosion sent the men, a cry of terror included, flying against the opposite wall while it also ignited their clothing. Three of them, which had been the closest to the barrels, were killed outright while the one that had cried out in fear as he flew through the air succumbed to the flames soon after he had collided with the wall. Mendez rolled on the ground to extinguish the flames that were cooking his flesh underneath his armor.

Closing the distance, I charged at him as he continued to roll on the ground. Wanting to give the man a fair chance, I shouldered my automatic shotgun as I ran at him. There was no sport in simply shooting the enemy to death. Sure, when the situation demanded it, I understood the advantage that a firearm gave an individual but it felt so undignified to have to rely on the cold steel mechanical projectile launchers in order to kill someone.

There was just something so beautifully primal about hand-to-hand fighting that I felt drawn to. I suspected that the Heavy Trooper programming that Armacham had forced into my mind was the reason for my obsession with close-quarters fighting because my rational side understood that it was ill advised to risk giving my enemy any sort of opening.

As I neared him, he finally managed to stand though he had dropped his primary weapon in his panic-fueled rolling to extinguish the flames. He attempted to raise his Seergert ACM46 Pistol but I grabbed ahold of his right wrist. With a smooth motion, I twisted his wrist counterclockwise until he cried out and dropped the sidearm.

Catching the weapon in mid-fall with my left hand, I simultaneously pushed him back with my right hand. I must have pushed him harder than I thought because he lost his footing and landed on his ass. Holding the pistol in my palm with the tactical rail covered barrel between my thumb and index finger and with the magazine pointed towards me, I raised it out in front of me for the man to watch.

Clenching my left hand, I crushed the durable sidearm to the point of being usable only as a paperweight. After tossing it off to the left, I raised my right hand and wagged my index finger at him like a teacher scolding a student. Remaining silent, I then motioned for him to attack me. The man rose to his feet as he commented, "You want some big guy?"

After balling his right hand into a fist, he sent a right punch at my ceramic face. Catching his right fist in the palm of my left hand, I shook my head in disappointment. As I crushed his hand, I reach out with my gloved right hand and grabbed ahold of the breast area of his heavy Kevlar armor. Using his right hand as a focal point, I launched him over my left shoulder. Having released my grip on his fist and armor at the appropriate moment, the man landed on his back behind me.

I turned and looked down at him while he groaned and continued to lie on the ground. I shook my head again before I remarked with my deep voice, "Disappointing. Armor with no substance to back it up." The man replied, "Holy shit, you Heavy Armors can actually talk?" Briefly amused by his curiosity, I shrugged in response. He scrambled to his feet and turned to face me. He tried to punch me with his left hand but, having become bored with him, I simply reached up with both hands and clamped down on both sides of his helmet.

Twisting counterclockwise in a smooth motion, I rotated his head one hundred and eighty degrees. The sounds of screaming and snapping vertebrae filled the air until it suddenly stopped all together. His corpse remained upright and standing before me for a moment. I raised my right hand with my index finger extended and pushed the corpse onto its back with little effort.

Turning, I retrieved my shotgun and glanced at the timers on the demolition charges. The timers indicated that they were set to detonate in exactly ten minutes. I contacted Replica Command, "Command, this is Alpha 1. I have terminated one of Colonel Vanek's Lieutenants: Mendez. He was with a demolition team, which I have also eliminated. According to the demolition charges that I have discovered, this facility is set to be destroyed in exactly…nine minutes fifty-three seconds. Please advise, over."

My orange hued HUD displayed the image of a Replica Heavy Trooper in the bottom right hand corner as I received the response, "Alpha 1, Command wishes to congratulate and recognize you for your achievement. Outstanding work trooper. Regarding the demolition charges, Command is already aware of the situation but after an examination of the facility, it was concluded that the facility is not worth the effort that would be required to save it. It is simply too damaged to save. Evacuation has already commenced via cargo elevator and is nearing completion. Only the Rear Guard Team and your squad remain in the facility."

I replied, "Copy that Command. Alpha Team is evacuating via cargo train." The Heavy Trooper asked, "By whose authority? You were not authorized to use that train. Alpha 1, explain your actions." I replied, "I was authorized by our leader. I am on a classified assignment that is outside the jurisdiction of Replica Command." The Trooper said, "Understood. Make _her_ proud soldier." I smirked beneath my armored face before I replied, "Roger that Command."

I deactivated my com link and started to run towards the cargo train. Eventually, I arrived at the loading platform. The rest of Alpha Team was waiting for me. As I boarded the train, which was more of a monorail than a traditional train, the standard Replica Troopers went attention where they were and saluted me. I returned it before I said, "Carry on."

They simultaneously replied, "Yes, sir." I looked at Alpha 2 and said, "Alpha 2, permission granted to depart." He replied, "Copy that, sir." He ordered Alpha 3, who was standing in front of control panel, "You heard the heavy. Let's go." Alpha 3 typed on the panel and the train began to depart from the station. As we left the station, a prerecorded message with a female voice said, "En route to…Storage Facility Number: 0055. Please exercise caution while the tram is in motion."

Tram? So, that is what these things were called. I would have to remember that. Turning around to look back, I gave a silent farewell to the facility that had been my home for the last twenty years. When it disappeared from view, I turned back to see Alpha 2-5 standing before me expectantly. Alpha 2 said, "Sir, no insubordination intended, but we wish to know why we are intercepting Foxtrot 813." Not wanting to leave my men in the dark, I replied, "Full disclosure…deceased rogue commander Paxton Fettel is planning to use Foxtrot 813 as a means of reviving himself. _She_ wants us to prevent that from happening."

The Replica Troopers looked at each other before looking back at me. Alpha 2 said, "Understood, sir." Before I could reply, Alpha 5 suddenly pointed behind us as he said, "Sir, hostile contacts!" I swiftly turned to look and saw another cargo tram on a separate track coming up alongside ours.

On-board, I saw an ATC Team of ten ATC Black Ops Soldiers armed with submachine guns, two ATC Black Ops Heavy Troopers armed with combat shotguns, and one Black Ops Pyro armed with a napalm cannon. They seemed just as surprised to see us as we were to see them. I ordered, "Take cover and concentrate fire on the Pyro!"

We took cover behind the large metal shipping crates that Armacham had left on the tram. They were conveniently in the shape of a line and were just large enough for two of us to take cover behind one of them. Crouched down with Alpha 3 beside me, Alpha 5 behind the next box, and Alpha 2 and 4 behind the box after that, I raised my shotgun but refrained from firing until the ATC occupied tram moved closer.

Meanwhile, my men began firing their assault rifles at the Pyro. It was essential that we neutralized the heavily armored fire unit before we got within the effective range of his napalm cannon. However, the ATC Black Ops Soldiers were providing suppressive fire that was simply too coordinated for my men to effectively fire their weapons. One pair of ATC grunts would unleash a barrage from their submachine guns and force us back behind cover while the other teams were reloading.

Meanwhile, the distance between us kept getting closer and closer as the tunnel narrowed. Realizing that I had to act, I placed my shotgun off to the side before I retrieved my Andra SR5 Missile Launcher. Using my heavy armor to absorb the incoming fire, I aimed through the side-mounted scope and fired a round aimed just before the Pyro to allow for the seconds that it would take the missile to reach him.

The warhead traveled through the air, leaving a smoke trial behind it as it did so. Seconds later, the warhead hit home in the center of the Pyro's chest. The resulting fireball consumed the four nearby Black Ops Soldiers and ignited the man on either side of them. Having neutralized the Pyro and four of the Black Ops Soldiers while wounding two Black Ops Soldiers, I returned my missile launcher and retrieved my shotgun.

Alpha 3 roughly patted my left shoulder two times with his right hand as a sign of his approval. From where he was, Alpha 2 commented, "Fine shot, sir." The remaining ATC Soldiers regrouped and the tram finally closed to medium range. Aiming my shotgun, I ordered, "Concentrate fire on the Black Ops Heavy Troopers!" We began firing our weapons at the two shotgun-wielding mercenaries. Due to their armor, it took several cycles of taking cover to avoid the incoming fire and then popping up to unleash our own fire before they finally collapsed onto the ground.

The remaining six Black Ops Soldiers continued to fire upon us from behind cover. By that time, their tram had closed to close range and I worried that they might attempt to board ours. I ordered my men, "Prepare to repel boards. Fire at will." Individually picking targets, we started firing upon our diminished enemy. We had neutralized all but two of them when the female voice said, "Warning. Obstruction detected."

I looked to our right to see that the large tubular tracks that the two trams followed were more than just obstructed. In fact, the tracks were gone and the end sections just before the breaks were pointed up towards the roof of the tunnel. My brother, as I am telling you this story, I now suspect that the Origin Explosion had caused a large multistory building to collapse and the building had in turn, collapsed the roof of the tunnel. I yelled out, "Shit, hold on!"

Knowing that there was not enough time to reach the control panel, I simply found the sturdiest looking object and grabbed onto it. The woman's voice said, "Obstruction detec…" The derailment of the tram interrupted the automated warning. With the end of the track bent upwards, the tram followed it straight into the roof of the tunnel. The force of the impact caused me to black out.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying face down. Something was wrong, my HUD was gone and I heard absolutely nothing but silence. I clenched my hands and their gloved digits dug into soft material instead of the hard unforgiving concrete that I had been expecting. By that time, I had become aware of tall, slender stalks of some kind of plant brushing up against my form as if they were swaying in some undetectable breeze.

Confused, I pushed myself onto my feet. The sight that greeted my vision shocked me as well as defied my ability to figure out how I had gotten there. I was in an endless meadow made up of tall, tan, stalks of grass. It was the most beautiful sight that I had ever seen. The natural beauty of the open field with no barriers, walls, or even a roof incalculably dwarfed the dismal, damp, concrete and steel jungle that had been my home for so long.

I bent down and dug my right hand into the soft material of the floor. Scooping up a handful of the strange, powdery light brown substance, I raised my hand up to be able to examine the alien material. After playing with the material with my left index finger for a moment, I balled my right hand into a fist. I stood and slowly allowed the material to escape from my grasp.

I watched as the trail of almost dust like material scattered into many individual particles under the influence of the undetectable breeze until it had all left my balled fist. Sorrow filled me as I realized that I had been so isolated from the rest of the world that even the humble dirt of the Earth that most people viewed as a necessary but insignificant substance that they saw in some form nearly every day of their lives was able to captivate me with such intensity.

I had never even seen the Sun, Moon, or stars but I had heard that they were all beautiful in their own way. Nor had I seen real plants or seen a vast expanse of open space with no walls that seemed to exist only to remind me that I was a prisoner of a corporation. After being confined to the stasis pod for so long, it felt almost scary to be so free.

I was startled out of my day dreaming when a young girl's voice asked, "Do you like my meadow?" I wheeled around to see Alma, in her young form, standing a few inches away from me. She smiled before she said, "I didn't mean to scare you." I replied defensively, "I was startled, not scared." She giggled in amusement for a moment before she said, "This is my favorite created world. No mean people, no bad memories…mostly, and my own swing."

I questioned, "Swing?" She turned and pointed up towards a lone tree that I had not noticed before. The tree seemed to be nucleus of the entire meadow; the only island in the never-ending sea of grass. From my vantage point, I could make out a simple swing made out of two segments of rope and a wooden board. I commented, "It is nice here. So open…and…free."

She turned back and smiled at me for a moment before she lectured with a motherly tone, "Please, be more careful in the future. You were built to be a walking juggernaut but even your body has its limits." Embarrassed, I asked, "You…saw that?" She nodded in response before she said, "I care about you as if you were my son. Please, be more careful. Michael will need you once he starts to awaken."

Connecting the dots, I asked, "That vision you showed me all those years ago…that was…us?" She nodded slightly in response. I said, "I understand. I will try to exercise more caution in the future, ma'am." She smiled for a moment before she said, "You can call me mom or mother…if you want." I replied, "Yes…mother."

She whispered, "Thank you." Then, with her normal voice, she said, "Foxtrot 813 is about to be deployed, get to him before Fettel contacts him." I nodded as I replied, "Yes, ma'a…mother." She smiled and my vision faded back into darkness.

I opened my eyes to find myself lying prostrate with hard, cracked asphalt underneath me. After collecting my senses, I realized that I was surrounded by the wreckage of the tram. Flames crackled off to my right and electrical sparks sizzled off to my left. I was relieved to see that my right hand had retained a firm grip on my automatic shotgun. Groaning from soreness, I pushed myself to my feet.

Looking around, I discovered that the tram had plowed through the asphalt surface of a street in a heavily damaged section of the city. Around me, once proud buildings were either gutted shells whose innards were now piled in the streets, or were toppled mountains of glass, steel, furniture, and concrete. Despite my surroundings, I mentally celebrated for having had finally reaching the surface. Even this apocalyptic landscape was more inviting than that dungeon that I had been confined in for so long.

I heard groaning to my right and saw Alpha 3 emerging from a pile of bricks as he stood. I asked him, "Alpha 3, are you okay?" He gave a weak thumbs up in response. I smiled beneath my ceramic face before I informed him, "Your body is still in shock. Don't force it. Give yourself a minute." He replied, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." I heard more groaning behind me and turned to see Alpha 2 and 4 getting to their feet. Looking around, I located Alpha 5 off to my left and saw that he was getting to his feet as well.

I called out, "Alpha Team, give yourself time to shake off the shock and find a weapon if you lost yours. We are moving out in one minute." They replied, "Roger that, sir." They began to search amongst the rubble for their assault rifles while I examined my shotgun. I was relieved when everything appeared to be in working order. We had just regrouped with weapons at the ready when I heard the sound of an approaching helicopter.

As it grew closer, I realized that it was not Yankee 2's engine signature. Instead, it sounded like a Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk. Before I could order my men to take cover, the enemy chopper appeared from behind the gutted remains of an office building. I yelled, "They must be investigating the tram wreck. Take cover!" As we scrambled to find adequate protection, I noticed the miniguns mounted on her left and right side.

Horrified, I informed my team, "That is a Direct Action Penetrator model. Get your head down and stay down!" I had just managed to find cover when the right mounted minigun opened up on our position. We continued to dart in and around the maze of brick wall remnants and other building parts as the Black Hawk's minigun pulverized the feeble pieces of cover as if they were made of powder.

As I ran with my head down, I retrieved my missile launcher. If I could get an opening, I had a good chance of neutralizing the airborne menace. Finally, I saw an opening when the minigun operator had gotten too trigger-happy and the barrels had overheated. Aiming my launcher, I prepared to fire a round. However, in my haste to destroy the chopper, I had failed to notice that what I was standing on was not the side of a building, as I had thought.

Instead, what I was standing on was a cracked window. As I pulled the trigger on my launcher, the glass gave way and I fell through the shallow hole. The hole was no deeper than my knees but it was enough to cause my body to jerk the launcher straight up into the air. The warhead rocketed straight up into the ash-filled sky.

The next few seconds were perhaps the most entertaining of my life. Though my shot had missed the helicopter completely, it did indeed hit something. As I watched spellbound, a commercial airliner descended out of the ash-filled sky. Seemingly against all odds, the warhead fired from my launcher detonated in mid-air just before the engine mounted on its right wing.

The blast crippled the engine and flames soon trailed the engine as the aircraft noticeably began to lose altitude. I followed the aircraft as it plummeted towards the ground. When it disappeared from view, I continued to listen to the trailing sound of its last remaining engine. Moments later, the sound of a crash echoed through the air before the ground and buildings shook from the shockwaves.

Remembering the Black Hawk, I quickly ducked behind cover before the minigun operator shook off his disbelief about what had just occurred. As I leaned against the thick concrete wall of a building, beside me Alpha 2 gave me a questioning gesture. I looked at him as I sheepishly replied, "Oops."

Moments later, a second loud explosion rocked the area except this one pulsed through the air as a red/orange shockwave. As the shockwave struck the Black Hawk, the chopper shook and one second later, flames began to billow from the engine vents. As I watched in amazement, the helicopter pilot lost control and the bird crashed into the nearby gutted office building. I reloaded my missile launcher and fired a second round. This time, the warhead hit home and the helicopter exploded.

I moved out from behind cover and motioned for my men to follow me. Returning my launcher, I retrieved my shotgun. I started to try to locate a street sign in an attempt to find out where I was. However, I never got the chance. Before I could react, a small mass suddenly impacted my frame and clung to me. It was Alma. She was bawling incoherently as she had her tiny arms wrapped tightly around my waist and had her head against my armored abdomen.

Alarmed, I started rubbing her back to with my left hand while I tried to understand what had upset her. Eventually, she calmed down enough to look up at me with pale, almost translucent, cheeks covered with bloody tears. She said between sniffles, "He…got…away…from…me." Confused, I assured her, "That is a good thing though. That means that he escaped the facility before the demolition charges went off."

My statement seemed to get through to her and her sporadic spasms of renewed crying fits eventually ceased. Trying to raise her spirits, I informed her, "I just shot down an airliner." Instantly, her pale lips formed a smile and shortly afterward, she started to giggle. After a moment, she asked, "That was you?" I replied, "Yes. I fell through a window while I was aiming at a helicopter and instead the missile went straight up. So, it was an accident."

She stepped back as she started to giggle again. However, she stopped and asked, "Wait, helicopter?" I pointed at the flaming hulk lodged in the office building. As she looked, I informed her, "After the plane crashed, a second explosion caused a shockwave that brought the helicopter down. When it crashed, I destroyed it with a second shot from my missile launcher."

She looked back at me as she explained, "That second explosion was me…I was so angry at myself for losing him. I guess I got carried away. On the plus side, I activated all the Variant VII Replicas and helped you…apparently." I nodded before I said, "See…it all worked out." She smiled and lightly nodded in agreement.

After a moment, I asked, "Well…I guess you should go do your thing and I will go after Foxtrot 813." She nodded and started to dissolve into a cloud of ash, but, thinking quickly, I asked her, "Wait, which way to Command Post Sigma? I am kind of lost here." She rematerialized and pointed behind her to the right. Before I could get her to be more specific, she dissolved completely.

In my mind, she said apologetically, "I'm sorry but I need to go kill this…Sergeant Griffin. With him gone, Michael will have to do all the heavy fighting for his team…alone. Sergeant Keegan is slowly losing his mind to my influence, Sergeant Morales is just their APC driver, and Lieutenant Stokes…she may be immune to my psychic influence but she is not as well trained in terms of fighting as the members of Dark Signal. They will have no choice but send Becket in to do their heavy fighting."

I shivered for a second before I said, "Damn…I understand why you are putting him through this and I definitely want to have Michael back but…isn't there some other way?" Her voice saddened when she explained, "No…if I show him his memories, he will explain them away as a trick on my part to get him to lower his guard. I have to break him. It is the only way."

She sighed before she continued, "When he was young, his mind could easily remember me after they used those drugs to erase his memories. Now…something horrible has happened to him…recently…very recently. His mind is still locked up from whatever happened to him. Right now, he is running completely on military training and instinct, which is why he will not talk. I am amazed that he was even deployed with this…Dark Signal. I imagine that it has something to do with Armacham, but I am not sure."

She continued with an almost crazed voice, "Armacham…what they did to him in that facility…I cannot stop thinking about him. I…I…want him…no…I need him. I am…feeling…urges…for him that I can't understand."

Alarmed, I replied, "Alma…snap out of it! You are going to put his life in danger if you don't control yourself." She breathed deeply before she said, "Okay…I'll try. I need to go. We will be in touch." With that, she left my mind and I was left with my objective to terminate Foxtrot 813. I looked back at my men, who were patiently waiting, and said, "Let's move out."


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

A.N.:

So, Alpha 1 does make an in game appearance haha. Since that Heavy Trooper is not named in game and only appears as a scripted event, I figured that it was fair game.

In case you are wondering, Alpha 1 was partially inspired by a glitch I ran into in Origin. I was playing through the level Replica and I found a Heavy Trooper that did not attack me. He aimed at me, moved around, and even followed me as if he was chasing me. I looked around online but no one else seems to have run into that so I have no clue what caused it. I took a video but the memory got corrupted.

My workload is going to be heavy again this weekend so an update for the main story might be late again. Sorry about that. I will try to get it done tomorrow but I cannot make any promises.

Anyway, read and review this story if you want. I appreciate those of you that are taking the time to read both stories.

Again, to my early readers, please forgive the errors. I am doing this and school work at the same time so I am not as thorough as I could be. Give me a day or two and look at the chapter again and I should have corrected the major issues.

I said to my team, "Keep your eyes open. The area is perfect for snipers." They replied, "Yes, sir." The rubble-filled streets were proving to be extremely difficult to navigate. The operational traffic signals seemed out of place in the ruined city. Dotting the roads and sidewalks were the silent, human shaped memorials of ash that marked the spot and posture of the unfortunate citizens that had been caught in the blast.

Something was off. Even with the magnitude of the explosion, there should have been more remains or signs of the people that had once walked the city's streets. Statistically, there should have been survivors or at least more remains of the citizens than what we were encountering. As the ash rained down on us like a light snowstorm, I noted how silent the entire city was. Only hours earlier, it had been a bustling metropolis. Now, it was as silent as a graveyard.

The crypt like spaces of the interiors of collapsed buildings were unsettling to travel through to say the least. As we navigated the dark, slanted hallways, I could have sworn that I had heard the sound of people crying out for help but as we learned the first time we attempted to reach one of the voices, they were coming from areas that were obviously uninhabitable. Whatever those voices were, I had no doubt that their intentions were very sinister.

Finally, after about an hour of traveling, we emerged from an underground garage that we had accessed using a sewer line and there towering above the huge clouds of dust were the twin skyscrapers of Command Post Sigma. The buildings had been in the process of being constructed when the Origin Explosion occurred. The two buildings were affiliated with Armacham, but that was not unique in Fairport since ATC had been the reason for the city's economic success and growth. In fact, in one way or another, Armacham owned and operated almost everything in Fairport. It was the city's dirty secret that was carefully hidden from the majority of the population in order to keep them all docile and ignorant. In a way, Fairport's decline into a decaying metropolis due to the abandoning of the Auburn District was symbolic of how ATC had risen to power only to slowly poison itself to death.

I failed to detect any signs of heavy fighting in or around the command post. The observation gave me hope that we were going to be able to intercept Foxtrot 813 before things got out of hand. If the path was clear, we would be able to reach the site in less than five minutes. However, it seemed that fate had other plans. When the entrance to the construction site came into view, we ran into an obstacle.

The burned out hulk of a city bus blocked our path. After quickly studying my surroundings to locate an alternative route, I led my team over to a nearby door that allowed access to what looked like an average corner drug/convenience store. The main exit/entrance of the store was on the other side of the bus so all we had to do was get to them and we could still beat Foxtrot 813 to the command post.

The dust covered white sign above the door had a message written in black letters. It read, "Employee entrance only." I extended my left hand out to grasp the door handle but as my gloved hand touched the steel grey door, it fell back through the doorframe and impacted the ground with an unceremonious crash.

The interior was pitch black. Using my left thumb, I activated the tactical L.E.D flashlight mounted on my shotgun. The cold blue beam revealed a storeroom with stainless steel wireframe shelves that were filled with various food, hygiene, and household items. As far as I could tell, nothing had been disturbed since the explosion.

The observation disturbed me. The store was in one of the densest parts of the city. My programming informed me that in cases of a widespread break down in law enforcement and civil order, these convenience stores were prime targets for looters. If there were any survivors, surely these shelves would be empty. The explosion had been massive, but there should have been survivors. Then it occurred to me: Armacham. Perhaps they were so desperate to bury the truth that they considered even civilians as potential threats. If they were willing to kill their own employees, then they certainly would not have any qualms about killing civilians.

Still, we could not take any chances now that we were so close. There may be a threat lying in wait inside the dark building. We would have to be as quiet as possible. It was time to use old school military hand signals. I turned back to face my men. After releasing my left hand from my shotgun's pump, I extended my left index finger at them. Without speaking, I extended my left arm out with my palm up. I then ordered them to "follow me" by motioning towards my body in a beckoning manner. They gave me a thumbs up with their right hands to acknowledge the command.

Returning my left hand to my shotgun's pump, I turned back towards the open doorway. Cautiously, I entered the dark interior with my weapon at the ready. The storeroom was filled with supplies but was otherwise just as deserted as I had initially assessed. The air was filled with dust, or ash, that resembled flurries of snow in the narrow but powerful beam of my flashlight. The building was eerily quiet like a tomb.

Taking point, I led my team through the room and to the door that provided access to the main area of the store. Everything remained quiet until I reached the door. As I did, I suddenly heard what sounded like a communication device that was not muffled like the com links that were standard for our forces and various Special Forces. The instant that I heard the device activate and emit static, I extended my left arm out horizontally and then lowered it down to my side to order my men to "take cover".

My caution proved to be unnecessary though because seconds later, I heard a middle-aged man say, "Attention all teams, Colonel Vanek has advised all teams to avoid contact with encountered civilians, and especially those that appear to be behaving strangely. We have lost contact with every single team that reported seeing a civilian and that they were investigating. Do not approach them or attempt to contact them. Leave the area immediately and find an alternate route to your assignment. Report the sighting with GPS coordinates so that we can properly warn other teams."

So, there were survivors. It appeared that there was some unusual phenomenon associated with them as well. The device deactivated and the building was silent once more. I signaled to my team and we rallied at the door. I took a step back before charging forward. Using my right leg and the momentum of my charge, I kicked open the locked door.

Alpha 2 took point temporarily as we proceeded through the door, or as it was sometimes referred to as "the vertical coffin". Once we were all through the door, I took point once again. The dark store had five long shelves that took up most of the space. On the opposite side of the store was the row of checkout stations and the pharmacy counter.

In the comparison to the untouched storeroom, the main area was a warzone. Bullet holes covered the walls and spent cartridges littered the floor. The mangled, bloodied corpses of six Armacham mercenaries were located in various places. One laid in a pool of his blood up against one of the clear glass refrigeration units. On the ground around him were glass shards and between his spread legs was a black handheld two-way radio. That must have been the source of the man's voice from earlier.

I walked over to the corpse and studied the hired thug. However, the more I studied his wounds, the less sense they made. The bullet wounds were from light penetration rounds that were likely from one of their own submachine guns. They were so frightened that they were shooting each other as they fled. Based on the wounds, I concluded that they were running towards the storeroom and firing blindly behind them.

Whatever it was, it must have appeared on the opposite side of the store. Alpha 4 informed me, "Sir, judging by the casing locations I hypothesize that they were taken by surprise and were not in a tactical formation when they started shooting. Whatever killed them appears to have been on the opposite side of the store."

I looked away from the corpse and at my team. I said, "Agreed. We move. Formation: wedge. Double time, we cannot afford any distractions." They simultaneously replied, "Yes, sir." Proceeding to the opposite side of the store, we moved as a wedge with our weapons raised and at the ready. As we neared the main entrance, it seemed like we were going to get through the building without wasting time by facing whatever it was that had wiped out the Armacham grunts.

Suddenly, I saw movement over by the pharmacy counter. Stopping while simultaneously swinging my body so I was aiming my shotgun at the movement, I called out through my com link, "Contact! Over by the pharmacy counter!" My flashlight illuminated what looked like a man with a slightly bloated body. He was wearing a white coat that resembled the lab coats that the ATC scientists wore except his was stained with blood and had a name tag on his left pectoral area that was inscribed, with black letters, "Hello, My name is: Greg".

He seemed to be ignorant of our presence even though our blinding, weapon-mounted flashlights were all aimed at him. At first, we did not shoot because he was a civilian and was therefore a noncombatant. He was humming a classical melody that gave me a strange feeling of déjà vu; like something that I had once heard coming from an old music box. As he moved from the checkout register to the shelves that were filled with prescriptions and then back again as if he was oblivious to the apocalyptic state of not only himself but also the store, his movements were jerky and unusual. To me, he almost seemed to be possessed by some kind of external influence.

Alpha 2's image appeared in my HUD as my com link activated. He asked, "Sir, orders?" I replied, "Move out." He answered, "Copy." We all turned and started to make our way towards the exit. We had not made it more than two steps before I accidently stepped on a child's toy that looked like a purple elephant. The toy made a squeak as I lifted my foot. At first, it seemed insignificant but seconds later, a loud scream filled the air.

Swiveling to look back at the civilian, I was shocked to see that he had started running towards the other side of the store while what looked like red strings flew from him to the corpses of the ATC mercenaries. Alarmed, I yelled, "What the Hell?! Open fire!" I hip fired a round from my automatic shotgun at the fleeing man and scored a direct hit. The man continued to run as if nothing had happened. Making matters worse, as if they were puppets, the corpses of the deceased mercenaries rose to their feet and began firing at us with their pistols, though in a somewhat awkward stance and with horrible accuracy.

Under a hail of our combined gunfire, the animated corpses fell back the ground. I could still hear the man making strange noises so I ordered my team, "Search the area." We fanned out as we began to sweep the store for the strange man. As I moved towards the strange noises, I mentally asked, "What is this guy?"

My answer came as I heard Alma say in my mind, "A remnant. There are many located within the city. Basically, he is a survivor that has been driven insane by my psychic energy. Watch out, he is like a puppet master. He reanimates corpses to serve as his bodyguards but they are only dangerous if he has a lot of them. Don't get too close to him. He will emit a loud scream that will disorient you long enough for him to either escape or attack you. He has a powerful melee that can bypass armor and cause severe injury."

I questioned, "Why can't you just call him off or something?" She explained, "Unlike my other apparitions, specters and remnants are not entirely of my own creation. They are what remain of the population of Fairport. My anger and psychic energy corrupted them but that was not…like…planned…or anything. I do not have any control over them and they will attack any living being on sight in the case of the specters, and upon provocation in the case of the remnants."

I replied, "Understood. Thank you for the intelligence, mother." She said with a gentle tone, "Of course, my son." I smiled slightly beneath my armored face in response to the name. I felt her presence leave my mind and focused back on the hostile remnant. As I neared the corpse with the radio between its legs, it tried to stand but I neutralized it with a round from my shotgun. As it collapsed back onto the ground, the remnant appeared as it turned to head down the aisle towards me.

I stopped and fired three rounds at the approaching threat. To maintain a safe distance, I moved backwards as I continued to fire rounds at him. My shots alerted my team to the remnant's location and within seconds, the four Replica Troopers opened fire on the remnant from behind me as I continued to move backwards. By the time that I reached them, I had emptied my magazine and by my estimates, the members of my team had individually emptied two clips into the man.

Just when it seemed as if nothing was going to kill the remnant, he suddenly gave off one final scream as he exploded. The scream briefly caused my vision to fail but I quickly recovered. When my vision returned moments later, I observed that there was no trace of the remnant and the corpse with the radio seemed to have exploded as well. As I reloaded my shotgun, the radio activated once more. Over the sound of an EPA's cannon fire, a man said with a panicked voice, "It's on a rampage!"

The voice changed to a different individual and the sound of EPA cannon fire ceased. The man said, "Attention all teams near the construction site, a Replica Elite Power Armor unit has orbital dropped at your location. It has already shot down at least two Black Hawks and killed several of our men. All nearby teams are ordered to proceed to the construction site and destroy that EPA. Replica Forces have already gained a foothold in the building adjacent to the current location of the EPA. It is believed that the Replica Trooper operating the unit was sent to reinforce the Replicas in the second building. He cannot be allowed to reach them…"

The man was interrupted by an older man with a loud voice that allowed me to identify the man as Colonel Vanek. Vanek barked, "Attention all fuck-ups, Upper Management is running out of patience for our operations to be completed. They won't fucking tolerate any more fucking setbacks. Because of your incompetence, our extraction is in fucking jeopardy. What is so fucking hard about killing a bunch of fucking stupid fucking clones?! Stop being a bunch of pussies! Now, management has agreed to allot us forty-eight more hours to compete our mission in return for a deduction of a fourth of the original payment. Get shit done or we will be on our own. End transmission."

I mentally cursed our misfortune. Foxtrot 813 had beaten us to Sigma. I wheeled around to face the exit and started to run. Using my weight and momentum, I bull charged straight through the powerless automatic doors. In the air around the first skyscraper, I saw tracer fire and seconds later, I saw a third Black Hawk explode. That must have been Foxtrot's EPA that was causing so much destruction.

I did a quick calculation in my head and realized that it was unlikely that we would be able to reach Sigma's comcenter before Foxtrot got there. We needed a way to slow him down. Knowing that she was listening, I said in my mind, "Mother, I need more time." After a moment, she replied, "I just caused the lift that his EPA was on to fall. The EPA is in auto repair mode and the level that I dropped him to is a dead end for the EPA. Foxtrot will have to get to the command post on foot once he reaches the collapsed crane."

I said, "Much obliged." She briefly giggled in response to my statement before she replied, "No problem. Hurry though, Fettel is about to contact Foxtrot." With my team right behind me, I entered the construction site and ran towards the building that housed the command post. In the air between the two buildings, I saw the collapsed crane that had become a makeshift bridge. In the brief second that I glanced up at it, I could have sworn that I saw a trooper running across it, but that could have just been my paranoia.

As we entered the main lobby of the building, a Replica Trooper stopped us and asked me, "What is your call sign? What is your purpose here?" I replied, "Alpha 1, commander of Alpha Team. I am here on a classified assignment. Now, no disrespect but get out of my way trooper." He stepped back as he said, "Apologies, sir. Go ahead."

I ran towards the elevator and pressed the call button. As I waited for the elevator to arrive, I impatiently stretched my back. Finally, the doors opened and we entered the device. Once we were all inside, I looked at the options and cursed when I saw that the elevator did not go up to the floor with the command post. It did get close however so I pressed the button of the highest floor option. The doors closed and the elevator began to ascend.

As we waited, I contacted Replica Command. I said, "Command, this is Alpha 1. For reasons that do not concern you, I need you to stall Foxtrot 813 as long as you can." The image of a Replica Heavy Trooper appeared in my HUD as he replied, "Alpha 1, we have just lost contact with Foxtrot and Command Post Sigma. There is some kind of interference that is originating from the epicenter of the explosion."

The doors opened and we exited the elevator. We were a few floors below the command post. If we hurried, we could still reach him in time. Luck finally seemed to be on our side when I saw the freight elevator that most likely went up to the right floor. However, as we started to make our way to it, the image of a Replica Heavy Trooper appeared in my HUD. He said, "All squads, Foxtrot 813 has gone rogue. Shoot on sight. Repeat, shoot Foxtrot 813 on sight."

Seconds later, I heard the freight elevator descending. I ordered my team, "Take position. Alpha 3, press the call button so the elevator the stops on this floor." They all replied, "Yes, sir." After Alpha 3 pressed the button, I retrieved my missile launcher. Moments later and before Alpha 3 could regroup with the other members of my team, the elevator stopped on our floor. Inside, I saw Foxtrot 813 for the first time. He wore standard Variant VII Replica Trooper armor and was armed with a Patten PK470 assault rifle. Strangely, his helmet's visor emitted a green light instead of the standard yellow color.

As my team fired at him from behind cover, Alpha 2 suggested, "Target the supports." I aimed my launcher and fired a round. The warhead struck the elevator's supports and the device immediately started a fiery descent. Moments later, we heard and felt the elevator crash several floors below us. I spoke into my com link to the Replicas on that floor, "Can you confirm that Foxtrot 813 is down?" A Replica Trooper replied, "We do not have visual confirmation. We are initiating a sweep."

Shame filled me as my instincts told me that he had survived and that now we would have to play hide and seek in order to find him. As I retrieved my automatic shotgun, Alma appeared at my side. Out of shame, I tried to turn away. However, she gently pulled me back to face her. As I looked at her, she assured me with a gentle tone, "It is alright. I am not disappointed. Foxtrot 813 is an unusually gifted soldier so don't beat yourself up. Find him and kill him." I nodded before I replied, "Yes, mother." She smiled as she dissolved into a cloud of ash. I turned to my men and said, "Move out."


	5. Chapter 5: Captured

Ch. 5: Captured

A.N.: So, in this chapter, we learn how Alpha 1 was captured by Armacham the second time. In the next chapter, we see what happened to him and why he hates the Phase Commanders.

The next chapter for The Broken Soldier will be posted tomorrow probably. Wednesday at the latest. It's my Spring Break so I finally got a chance to update this story.

Read and review if you want.

I know that Alpha 1 isn't near as interesting as Becket and Alma but I think that he deserves his own story since he backs up Becket as they go to Hell and back in the main story on multiple occasions.

"Get the heavy armors deployed!" I ordered as my squad and I ran towards the maze of plywood. Foxtrot 813 had somehow wiped out most of the search team and fled towards the maze by the time that we had reached the floor. The rogue Replica was tough, I would give him that. Even still, there was no way that he would get past the heavy armor units.

My com link activated and I saw the image of a Replica Heavy Trooper from Replica Command as he said, "Heavy Armors deployed." I heard a section of plywood shatter and seconds later, I heard the sound of a Hammerhead firing. I said to my squad, "Move in. Cut off his escape!" They replied, "Yes, sir!" We neared the maze and heard more plywood sections shattering and more Hammerheads firing. I failed to hear Foxtrot returning fire, which meant that either he was out of ammunition or he was running away from the heavy armors. The firing got further and further away and, to my amazement, moments later a Replica reported, "Foxtrot has evaded the heavy armors."

'Who the fuck is this guy?' I wondered as I continued to pursue Foxtrot 813. He had somehow evaded the Heavy Armors and had forced my squad to purse him through a crumbling, collapsed office building. All Replicas were tough combatants, but this was starting to get a little ridiculous. No standard trooper should have been capable of what he had done.

After freefalling down to another level of the ruined, burning interior, I heard booted footsteps moving away from our position down the hallway on the right. As we ran after the rogue soldier, I knew that if he slowed down even for a moment, we would be able to intercept him. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion and a moment later, Alma said, "Damn, I thought I had him. Wall got in the way of the car that I threw at him. I have attracted some abominations to aid you and your team. They should be able to slow him down enough for you to catch up to him. Michael is at the school where we first met and he discovered…well, rediscovered the secret facility beneath the school. He just killed Colonel Vanek. This is my chance to corner him."

I replied, "Go after Michael. We will handle Foxtrot." She said, "Okay, good luck." After we jumped down through a hole, we found ourselves in a parking garage. I heard the sound of gunfire and as we proceeded out of the room, I noticed the taxicab and the damage to the wall where Alma had thrown the vehicle at Foxtrot 813. As we moved towards the end of the parking lot, I heard the sound of music. It was not until we arrived at the 4-door Sedan that I realized that the music was coming from the still running vehicle.

The music was loud and I caught the name "Snake fist" but other than that, I ignored the noise. I was never fond of music. Illuminated in the headlights of the vehicle was a pile of ATC mercenary bodies that were grouped around the corner of the wall. Abomination scribbles were written in blood on the ground and walls. I saw the phrases, "Help me I am in Hell", and "Can he see?". I was intrigued for a moment as I wondered if the abomination or abominations that wrote those statements were simply referring to themselves or if Alma's influence had caused them to write some of her thoughts about Michael.

My train of thought was cut short when Alpha 2 said, "Sir, over here." I looked away from the bloody writing to see Alpha 2 down at the other end of the space where a car blocked the security gates. He was motioning towards the chain-linked fence and when I reached him, I noticed that the gate was open. As I led the way through the gate, I saw that the manhole cover had been removed from the manhole. I climbed down the rusted ladder until I realized that I had to jump the rest of the way. When I landed, I looked around and saw that we were in part of the sewer system once again.

The tunnel directly in front of us was blocked but the one to our right was open and strangely, a work light illuminated the tunnel entrance. I started to wonder if Fettel was aiding Foxtrot as Alma was aiding me. Though I saw Alma as a mother, I found this whole business distasteful. I felt more like a chess piece in a game being played by Alma and Fettel than someone that she cared about. As I moved down the tunnel towards the sound of gunfire and abomination snarling, I reminded myself, 'Expendable asset. All you are. Expendable asset'.

As we passed what appeared to be access tunnels to other parts of the sewer that Foxtrot had closed off to repel the abominations, Alma said with a sad tone, "Please don't think such a horrible thing. You are not an expendable asset. I know that this situation looks bad, but it is not one that I had intended to put you in. My second son use to be so respectful of me. Now, he won't even talk to me other than to mock me or say hurtful things. He thinks that I purposely allowed my first son to kill him…that I betrayed him. I was using him yes…I am not sorry about that…but I never betrayed him."

I saw an ammunition box and turned right as I continued to follow the path that the rogue soldier had likely taken. We passed the closed tunnels and service equipment as we pressed on. Suddenly, we heard the unmistakable sound of a remnant's death bellow and sprinted towards the noise. We came to a large reservoir and I saw the tail end of Foxtrot's boots as he ran down the tunnel at the end.

After we jumped down, we moved down to the end where the tunnel led to another section of the sewer. Alma continued by asking, "You think that I am a cruel person don't you? A mother who pits her two sons against each other and then betrays the one that has been helping her all along. You must think of me as some evil, demented woman who blindly kills whoever she pleases." We entered the tunnel and passed the corpse of an abomination.

I replied, "I think that you are just someone has been dealt a bad hand. Mother, I know that you are not good-natured and are more likely to liquefy the flesh off someone than talk to them, but I also know that you are not truly evil either. You have enough good left in you to love those close to you and not hurt them intentionally. Granted, it more of an obsession than a healthy attachment, but I still don't think that you are truly evil."

I heard another explosion and, moments later, Alma remarked, "I missed again? How do I miss twice?" At the sound of gunfire, we rushed towards the end of the tunnel. I had just exited the tunnel when I saw Foxtrot exit the large, circular room with a central large pipe looking structure as its nucleus. He ran out of my field of view just before I could get a shot off. Just as he passed through the square opening, the large metal gate closed and cut us off from the rogue Replica soldier. As I carefully navigated past the section of walkway that had been nearly demolished by the car that was now a fiery wreck at the bottom of the shaft, I asked her, "What are you doing? You just cut us off from Foxtrot."

I did not receive a response and instead, I heard the power cut off. Soon afterwards, we had arrived at the large, square, metal gate. On the other side, I heard the sound of Alma whispering and then the sound of gunfire. For a second, rage filled me because I thought that the rogue soldier had been shooting at Alma. However, seconds later, I heard the sound of a third shooter and realized that Foxtrot was defending himself against the two other sources of gunfire. I was confused to say the least. Moments later, there was silence. Then, a single pair of booted footsteps continued moving away from us.

The gate remained closed and the footsteps faded until I could no longer hear them. Alma said, "Why won't he die? He should be dead." I raised my left hand up to the side of the gate and balled it into a fist. After pounding against the heavy metal gate once, I lowered my hand as I said, "We're not getting through that in time. Come on, let's backtrack and find another way." As we moved back into the reservoir, my com link activated and I saw the image of a Replica Heavy Trooper from Command as he ordered me, "Alpha 1, respond."

I motioned for my squad to halt as I replied, "Alpha 1, reporting in." The trooper advised me, "Alpha 1, Command has received reports from our scouts that indicate that a large amount of Armacham reinforcements have moved into the Fairport area. For now, they seem to be setting up a base of operations in the docks. Command is reassigning troop positions in preparation for the new wave of offensive movements by Armacham. In the meantime, be on your guard against possible scouts." I replied, "Copy that, Command."

I informed my men, "We've got company: Armacham reinforcements. For now, their base of operations is the docks, but we should be on our guard against scouts." They nodded in response. I motioned for us to continue and we moved back through the sewer system. When we reached the ladder that led up to the garage, I placed my shotgun on my back and hunched down as I formed my hands in a cup. One-by-one, I lifted my squad up so they could reach the ladder. When it was my turn, I jumped up and Alpha 5 caught me. He lifted me up enough to grab ahold of the ladder.

After reaching the garage, I retrieved my shotgun and took point as we moved back towards the collapsed office building. If we could reach the outside of the building, we could contact Yankee 2 to give us a ride. As I passed the still running sedan, I noticed that the music had been replaced by what sounded like a man saying, "Attention Fairport, we are Armacham Security Forces. We are working with National Guard units to provide relief to the citizens of Fairport. We are here to take you to safety. Do not be afraid to approach us. We offer food, clothing, medical services, and safety. Repeat, we are here to take you to safety. Do not be afraid to approach us. We offer food, clothing, medical services, and safety. Delta Force Operatives and F.E.A.R. Operatives will receive fair treatment."

Alpha 2 commented, "I don't think that their offer is sincere." I replied, "Agreed. They're going to silence anyone that is still sane enough to give contradictory statements about what happened here." We continued towards the office building and, after climbing back up through the hole, we reentered the crumbling structure. Everything was going smoothly until about where the turn at the desk was. As I led the way, the floor gave weigh and I plummeted several stories down through darkness.

I landed on my posterior on a slightly sloped collection of compressed building debris. The landing stirred up a huge cloud of dust and forced a grunt to escape me as the impact jarred my body. Slightly disoriented, I starred up through the thin dusty ray of light for a moment. As I lay there, a forced thought went through my mind. 'Analysis: Soft tissue damage and hairline fractures on the coccyx.' My com link activated and Alpha 2's image appeared in my HUD as he asked, "Sir, do you copy?" I replied, "Affirmative, Alpha 2. Continue your ascent. I will find an alternate path." He replied, "Roger that, sir."

His image left my HUD. Groaning, I forced myself onto my feet. I raised my left hand up and activated the L.E.D. flashlight on my shotgun. The thin, powerful beam flickered to life and I returned my left hand to my shotgun's pump. The flashlight revealed an almost cave-like space that was filled with compressed piles of building debris. The weight of the office building above must have been slowly crushing a small service tunnel that it had landed on top of when it collapsed. I knew that I had to find a way out quickly or this dusty space would become my tomb.

I made my way to the opposite end of the tunnel and found a steel grey door that had a broken sign above it that said, "Exit to main concourse". I attempted to open it but found that it was locked. Undeterred, I simply took a step back before I rushed forward and kicked in the door. As the door fell backwards, I heard a man yell, "What the Hell?" When the dust cloud had dissipated, I saw ten ATC mercenaries in a forward command post that appeared to be in the main concourse of a subway system. Two ticket booths were at the far end of the room with a pair of turnstiles between them. At the center of the space was a large, communication device similar to the ones that my fellow Replicas used except it was black or dark blue and had the Armacham symbol on it. On either side of the device, there were vertical columns of bus-station style benches that were three benches long.

Five of the mercenaries were grouped around the device. Two of them had been smoking by the bench that was closest to me except now they were reaching for their submachine guns. Two had been carrying crates of supplies that were now broken at their feet from where they had dropped them. The last one was off in the far right corner and had likely been taking a piss because he was now clumsily fumbling with the zipper on his pants while simultaneously trying to retrieve his submachine gun.

I blasted the first two by the bench with my shotgun before they could raise their weapons. Their bodies fell backwards as their submachine guns clattered to the tiled floor as they tumbled through the air. Rushing forward, I opened fire on the two that had been carrying the crates. I shot the first one twice before he gave off a death rattle and collapsed onto the floor. I snapped my aim to the second and closed the distance. I got close enough for his body to liquefy when I blasted him with a single round of buckshot. Running through the bloody cloud of flesh, bone, and body fluid, I charged at the men around the communication device.

They had their weapons raised and unleashed a combined volley of lead. My armor absorbed most of the rounds but a few stray blunt nosed rounds penetrated my protective shell and ripped into the soft flesh underneath. Fighting through the pain, I fired a round into the first one that peppered his lightly armored head. He slumped to the ground as his weapon clattered onto the floor nearby. I snapped my aim to the next one and dropped him with a single round. I snapped to the next one and dropped him with a single round too. As his body fell backwards onto the device, I switched to my Seegert ACM46 handgun. Targeting the fourth man, I fired five rounds into him in center mass before he gave off a death rattle and collapsed onto the floor.

As I turned my attention to the last mercenary, who had finally managed to zip up his pants and retrieve his submachine gun, I heard him say, "He wiped out the whole forward command post. I need reinforcements." I aimed my sidearm and dropped him with a single shot to the head. I switched back to my shotgun and started to reload it. As I finished, I heard a strange, robotic sounding voice come from the device. It said, "Attention Forward Command Post Oscar, Phase Commander is deployed and will be arriving shortly."

Confused, I wondered, 'What the fuck is a Phase Commander?' By that time, I had reloaded my shotgun and started to head for the exit beyond the ticket booths. However, as I approached the turnstiles, I saw a very tall, cyborg-looking man with shiny armor and wielding what looked like a modified Hammerhead or something similar to it descending the steps that led to the surface. Not wasting time, I switched to my missile launcher and fired a round.

The warhead hit home but, to my amazement, the Phase Commander seemed unfazed by the damage. He raised his weapon and began firing. Before I could react in time, the spike-like rounds penetrated into my missile launcher and effectively neutralized the launcher. Tossing it aside, I retrieved my shotgun and charged at the large brute while firing round after round from my primary firearm. My buckshot only seemed to be inflicting minor damage to the armored cyborg even as I closed the range. Meanwhile, his rounds had little difficulty in penetrating my armor and inflicting massive amounts of damage to my body. By the time that I had closed in on the brute enough to use my CQB training, my health was almost gone and I was seeing a red tint in my vision.

My shotgun clicked as it ran out of ammunition and before I could dodge him, the Phase Commander kicked me square in my chest. I let out a loud, deep grunt as I fell backwards onto my back. My health bar was all but empty and it was a miracle that the kick had not killed me. I drew my sidearm from its holster and raised it up to aim at the commander. However, the brute kicked it away before bringing his foot down on top of my head. The force of the impact caused me to black out.


End file.
